Who: David and Peggy Urquhart What: Complaining about Da and discussing David’s future. When: After the Urquhart family argument and Portree meeting Pip, before David’s first match. Where: Peggy’s room. Warnings: None.
“UGH,” David said as way of greeting as he stole into Peggy’s room and flopped onto her bed. Wandlessly, wordlessly, he waved his hand at the door to shut it so they could speak privately. “I’m still mad at him,” he clarified, if Peggy needed it, though she’d always been good at reading between the lines and likely didn’t require additional context. The younger Urquhart let out another “UGH” before promptly pressing one of the pillows onto his face to muffle his urge to scream out of frustration.
"Da's a pain," Peggy agreed. She curled her feet up under herself so David had more room to spread out and flop dramatically as was his wont. "I'm mostly cross that he doesn't see the wider trouble now. I mean we're not idiots; it's not like we expect him to tell us the gruesome details of every decision. But it bothers me that he called this one so wrong and so badly."
He conceded with a shrug, and moved the pillow to behind his head to prop himself up. “That’s also a problem.” Not the one David was offended by the most, but still a problem, and one that needed to be solved quickly but likely wouldn’t be, because Merlin forbid their father take into consideration how anyone else feels about anything. “It bothers me that he refuses to understand his part in this.” David grumbled, and busied himself with picking a loose thread in Peggy’s blanket. “Like he’s never done anything wrong in his bloody life and we’re the stupid, emotional children who can’t handle being part of major decisions because we’re upset with him and bothered to say so.”
"He doesn't think it's a major decision," Peggy pointed out. "He has a different idea of what a major decision is than we do. And he did tell me about one major decision he made since then--one I assume you've heard about by now. Parkinson." She left that open so David could tell her what he'd been told, which she hoped was at least as much as she knew, because he was going to be furious otherwise.
David closed his eyes, glaring at the inside of his eyelids. “Yeah. I’ve met him.” Yet another prime example of how David was the last to know everything, because apparently knowledge of a new teammate also didn’t count as information that might somehow impact his playing. “He told you ahead of time?” He asked dully, eyes flickering open, wandering over the room until they settled on a picture of the four of them: Peggy, Alec, David, and Rhiannon. For the first time since leaving school, David almost wished he was there again, if only so he didn’t have to deal with their father’s power plays.
Peggy shrugged, which rolled her slightly off balance and forced her to put one arm down so she didn't fall off the foot of her own bed by accident. "He told me enough that I'd be ready to say something lovely and flattering when they roll Parkinson out for the Fall Classic. I haven't met him yet, if that's what you mean. I think he told me because the team was meeting Parkinson and you might if he didn't."
“I guess that makes sense,” David said after a beat, and turned his head to look at Peggy so she knew just how much admitting that maybe he couldn’t blame Da for this moment filled him with irritation. “He’s very...friendly,” he added, a bit disdainfully. Canadians, he supposed. “How long has his transfer been in the works?”
"That I don't know, but a while, I think. I might talk to Cav and Ellie about an interview and putting it under embargo. It's why they gave me the quidditch beat, after all." With David turned toward her, he could see that Peggy's expression was only a bit less irritated than his in contrast to her tone, which was just resigned.
He made a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. “How bored are you?” asked David, with more than a little sympathy, as he noted Peggy’s expression.
"Quidditch isn't awful except for that overlong Montrose match and some of the weird low-scoring ones, and there's definitely some interesting business with the possible rollback of 97-98, but honestly, I'd rather be on the Wizengamot even with the big trials over, or something in the Ministry. Everyone assumes I got this beat because of my connections and they're not wrong. But it's not because I want it. It's because it's that or accept a demotion given the restructuring." It was the first time Peggy had admitted in exactly those terms, but that was the plain truth. "It may be a shite beat, and boring, but it's my beat, at least for now."
“Eight bloody hours,” David nodded, shaking his head lightly. But at least that game had managed some decent scores, even if he’d had to sit through the whole thing with the his team in order to vigilantly observe their enemies. And then he fluffed up his pillow a bit, putting both hands behind his head. “Yeah.” He sighed in resignation, because he knew Peggy was right. People assumed David was on Portree’s team because of his name, and well, it didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t what he wanted to be doing. Even if he liked his teammates and liked being physically active. But it was his for now, and it was better than sitting at home all day doing nothing. “Yeah, I know.”
"And I'm going to show on this beat that I'm good at the kind of reporting that gets you put on other beats, and next year they'll move me," Peggy finished that thought out loud for the first time in the hearing of another person.
He smiled slightly, but his eyes were bright with pride for his older sister and her accomplishments. “Yeah, they will. If they have any sense at all, they will.” David rolled onto his stomach, then, and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m starting in our next match,” he said quietly, after he opened them again.
Peggy broke into a huge grin. She disentangled her legs and scooched up the bed to give David a hug. "That's wonderful! I'll be sure to get in the box this time so I can see all your goals scored."
“Thanks, Peggy,” he smiled, and even let her hug him without a fuss. “Just against Falmouth, and to give Buchanan a rest before Montrose, but it’s something.” David gave a shrug after he untangled himself from her grip, putting a few inches between them again. “Better than sitting around for hours, at least.”
"I'm sure you'll get more play when you show what you're worth on the pitch." Having had her hug, Peggy let David pull back and sat back herself a little to give him space. She tilted her head and pondered for a moment. "You know, this is all valuable experience if you wanted to go into management, the way Da was talking about, after you've done it for a while. I like Cav and Ellie but it would be different to have family in charge."
He closed his eyes again, sighing. “Maybe for later.” And that wasn’t a lie. Maybe later, David actually would be ready to dive back into the Quidditch world. Peggy was only trying to help, anyway; she wasn’t the problem. “Something on the other end of the world would preferable, right about now, though,” said David, sounding almost wistful at the idea of being able to be so far away.
Peggy frowned thoughtfully. "If you do a year here, you could play abroad next year, maybe. Or maybe travel on your earnings after this year and write a book about it after. You'll find something, David, something you really want, and then you'll get it too." In that, Peggy had faith.
“A book?” snorted David, coming back to life from the daze he’d drifted into. “What would I even write about?”
"Whatever you thought was interesting enough to write about." Peggy shrugged. "It's just a suggestion. Seb Rivers does that kind of thing. But if it's not for you, I know you'll figure something out." He was still grieving the loss of his Auror career, she knew, and probably nothing was going to appeal to him until he was further along with that.
Peggy is just trying to help, he reminded himself, his eyebrows narrowed in irritation that he knew she didn’t deserve. “It’s a thought.” David said in a more genial tone. “I just don’t know what I want, still.” That might’ve been the hardest thing of all, being directionless. Lost. Nothing to work towards, nothing to do with his time that was actually worthwhile.
He was trying and Peggy knew it. "You'll find something. It'll just take time, and looking at a lot of options. And then nothing will stand in your way." Her voice was confident, conveying exactly how much she believed in him.
“Yeah.” David lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I’ll find something.”
That had, Peggy realised, been the wrong thing to say. She never knew what to do with David or for him these days. Instead of talking, she set her hand on his ankle through his trousers so he knew she was there, and fell into a companionable silence.
They'd work it out. Peggy knew it. It was just going to take time.